.:{Imagines}:. ~ IM5

Dana Imagine for Anon

***

You guys are fricken' amazing! Your requests are great, I'm having a blast writing these. Writing is a huge part of my life, this is AWESOME. I hope you enjoy this, doll. Wish I'd gotten your name!

~ Alana

***

You sat in the corner of the café. To the right, near the case piled high with fresh muffins and brownies. A cold cup of coffee sat near you, along with a stack of new books you'd devoted yourself to for the past three hours. You loved escaping into different worlds, worlds where kings ruled and flowers could speak. Nothing could ruin moments like that. Nothing. Not even...

Dana Vaughns.

You rolled your eyes and peered over the spine of your book as he walked in with his friends. Cole, David, Gabe, Will, Dalton. You knew them well, especially Dana. He was a heartbreaker, to say the least. You stayed away from him in school, and the most you'd ever talked was when he asked you for a pencil in Chem.

But he was hot. Downright edible. You didn't admit it, though. Not even to your friends. He had that going for him, atleast.

You wanted to wither away in a hole. He ordered something, you could tell. The woman handed him a bag a few moments later. His friends were already seated at a table, and on his way back, your eyes met.

It was locked there, awkwardly, for a moment. Then, before you could look away, or protest, he started over to you.

"Fuck," you muttered under your breathe, trying to look interested in your book. To your suprised, he rudely tipped the spine down and smirked down at you.

"Hi," he said. "{Y/N}, right?" Your name sounded beautiful rolling off his tongue. You straightened out your posture and repositioned the book.

"The one and only. Please, don't touch my book." You caught onto his look, and added, "Dana."

Without hesitation, he plopped down across from me with a content smile, his friends trying to bite back laughs from afar.

"So you've heard of me, hm? You're a fan, I bet."

I rolled my eyes. "Yeah, sure. Don't you have somewhere to be?"

He grinned. "Not anymore, curly-top."

I blushed, running my finger self-conciously through my mop of curly hair. I had always thought it was my best feature. Now, I wasn't too sure.

"What do you want?" I hissed.

He shrugged. "Am I not allowed to talk to pretty girls in coffee shops?"

My heart fluttered, my cheeks burning. Pretty. He thought... I was... pretty. Dana Vaughns. Me. Pretty.

I stammered for the right words. "W-well... this isn't a movie, Vaughns."

He did something surprising after that. He took to book from my hand and removed a pen from his pocket. Flipping to the front cover, he scribbled something quickly inside.

A number.

His number.

"Well, Ms. Hard-To-Get. We can change that."

***

Hope you enjoyed, love!

~ Alana